


The Hell of My Making

by Princess_of_the_Pen



Series: Dick & Dami Week 2019 [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian is infected by fear gas, Day 3, Dick And Dami Week, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is a determined Fix-it-Felix, Dick is also injured, Dick tries to help, Dissociation, Fear gas, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, ends up killing a lot of people, poor baby does not take it well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 08:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18426666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_of_the_Pen/pseuds/Princess_of_the_Pen
Summary: Perhaps he wasn’t in his right state of mind. Maybe the fear gas was still in his system, maybe the scene around him wasn’t that bad and it was the gas making him see things. He wouldn’t know unless he took Richard’s offer. But Damian was scared. He was scared of the buzzing, of the weight of reality pressing in. He didn’t want to leave behind his cotton world, didn’t want to face the harsh truth and consequences of what he’d done.





	The Hell of My Making

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3: Fear Gas/Injury
> 
> (Sorry if this is a bit confusing.)

There was blood everywhere. It stained the walls and coated the floor like a sticky rug, filling the air with the tinny smell of iron. It clung to his hair, his clothes, his skin, his - his everything! The blood was like a second skin, wrapping around him until they were one and he was drowning in it.

And yet, through the blood, Damian was smiling.

The blood was his, Damian knew. It hadn’t come from his veins but it belonged to him all the same, like how a trophy belonged to the winner instead of the one who forged it. He had earned his current predicament with nothing but fear gas in his lungs and a sword in his hands. Damian looked around. The bodies were his too, he guessed. His punishment for getting gassed, his reward for overcoming the demons. All his.

“Mother would be so proud,” Damian hummed, simply to break the stifling silence. His smile softened into a grin, his head tilting to the side as his ears perked. Another sound followed his declaration, a pained groaned emitting from the sea of bodies. Damian’s muscles tensed, his hands gripping the sword between them so hard they shook. He had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there or where all the slain humans had come from, but apparently he wasn’t alone. Damian just wanted to be alone.

Richard seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He stood there like a ghost, skin pale and muscles rigid. If it wasn’t for the heaving of his chest and the pained grunts escaping his lips, Damian would’ve thought him to be another hallucination. But Damian’s hallucinations never breathed and never made a sound unless they were screaming. They never showed pain, only anger and sometimes fear, and Richard showed neither of those things so he must be real. Which meant Damian was safe.

For now.

Maybe.

Damian tightened his grip on the sword.

Time passed by like molasses. It could’ve been minutes or hours before Richard made his move, Damian couldn’t tell. He was too busy trying to figure out the look in Richard’s eyes. He was certain it wasn’t fear or anger or anything dangerous, but it wasn’t anything good either. It was a swirl of things, too many to pull apart, until suddenly Richard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again the look was gone, replaced by a terrifyingly blank look that had Damian practically quaking in his blood-drenched boots. Richard took a step forward. 

“Stay back!” Damian ordered, the strength in his voice surprising himself. Richard froze once more, this time his hands coming up in a surrendered gesture. It was only when he moved his arms did Damian notice the large blood stain covering Richard’s torso. Damian’s chest tightened sharply. The stain was not spreading so maybe there was a chance that it wasn’t Richard’s blood. Maybe it was just a stain picked up from moving throughout the field of corpses, maybe Damian hadn’t injured him. 

Damian felt like throwing up. He wasn’t fooling anyone. He had harmed Richard and now his brother would get his revenge. But there was nothing to fear, right? Because Damian was a master of the sword, could take him down with some extra determination. Richard would join his collection of bodies, his blood becoming Damian’s possession just like the others.

He could do this. 

“Damian, put the sword down,” Richard said gently, still holding his hands up. His body shook ever so slightly from what Damian could only assume was pain and exertion. 

“No. Leave.” 

“I’m not leaving without you, Dami. Just drop the sword and come with me. We can fix this.” 

“There’s nothing to fix! Leave!” 

Until now, the world around Damian had felt soft, like all his senses had been stuffed with cotton and he was floating on a different plane of existence. But Richard’s presence filled the air with an annoying buzz that cut straight through his cotton world like a chainsaw. He wanted Richard gone, away from him where he would be safe. Damian was to remain here with his bodies and blood and muted senses, ruling over his kingdom in a way that would make his mother and grandfather proud. 

(And who knew, maybe if he ruled well enough, one day he could leave behind this kingdom and join them once more. Maybe.) 

The buzzing grew stronger as Richard shuffled closer, ignoring Damian’s orders to get back and the wavering sword aimed at his throat. Damian took a step back but it was useless: for every step back, Richard took two forward, until Damian’s back hit the wall. 

“Damian please,” Richard whispered, and from this distance Damian could hear every pain-filled hitch of breath. For an aching second, the cotton-like feel of the world melted away, bringing everything to a sharp, overwhelming focus, and Damian wanted nothing more than to leave this place with Richard, if only to get the man to a hospital. But then he was gone again, back to his separated plane of existence, where only one fact was certain. 

“I belong here.” 

It sounded so final, like a life-long prison sentence, and Damian was suddenly all too aware that that’s exactly what it was. It was kind of funny in a way, how Damian’s final destination - the only place where he could easily fit in - was so much worse than the place he had tried to escape. Mother and Grandfather were definitely a more preferable option. 

“No, Dami, you belong at home in the manor. Please, let me take you home.” By now Richard had one hand wrapped around his middle, his posture hunched, but he kept shuffling closer, his free hand reaching out. 

“F-father would never let me back there.” Damian’s voice was a pitiful whine. He had no idea why he was even entertaining Richard, why he wasn’t listening to the sound of his mother’s voice in his head, telling him to run his sword right through Richard’s already wounded torso and finish the job. 

“Bruce will understand, I promise. Maybe not right this second but he will because none of this is your fault. Do you understand that, Damian? It’s not your fault.” 

“It is! I killed so many people. I-” The cotton feeling was fading fast and Damian was smiling again, but this smile was tainted with bitterness. He let out a self-loathing chuckle. “Drake was right about me.” 

Richard’s head swung like a pendulum, back and forth and forth and back, as if he was trying to dislodge something from his ear. “No, no, no, you’re wrong!” he spat. “Tim was wrong! It was an accident, Damian, you gotta understand that. _Bruce_ will have to understand that. We’ve all been victims to fear gas, all have done regrettable things under its influence. Just come home and let me fix this!” 

 _Let me fix this_. 

The words slammed into Damian like a wrecking ball. There was no fixing this, no undoing the mass carnage Damian had caused, and yet Richard was still offering to try. He was _always_ offering to try. No matter what Damian did Richard never seemed to understand that he was a lost cause. Richard was always willing to fight for Damian, even if it meant going toe-to-toe with Father. Damian was suddenly burning with the need to make Richard understand. He needed him to know exactly what had happened, exactly what would keep happening, and then - only then - would Richard finally see the picture and leave him be. 

Richard’s hand darted out, slapping the sword out of Damian’s hand. The clatter of the sword was barely audible in Damian’s head as he darted forward, throwing himself into Richard’s open arms for what was most certainly the last time. Richard let out a pained groan, the man become breathless as Damian wrapped his arm tightly around his injured middle. Damian couldn’t make himself care. He couldn’t care about Richard’s pain or the blood seeping through Nightwing’s uniform and onto his face. All he could care about was the explanation on the tip of his tongue, the one that would finally open Richard’s eyes. 

“They were trying to kidnap me,” Damian started. His cheeks were wet and his voice wavered but he pushed through, letting himself sink back into his cotton world. It wrapped around him like a comfort blankie, shielding him from the monsters hiding just out of sight. 

“Who tried to-” Damian squeezed Richard tighter, purposely putting pressure on his wound to shut him up. Damian couldn’t be interrupted.  
  
“The shadows, they were alive. They were going to take me back to Infinity Island, back to Mother and Grandfather so Grandfather could complete his ritual and possess my body. I- I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to be Grandfather’s new vessel. So I took my sword and I defended myself against them. Except they weren’t real and I killed the people I swore to protect. In my desperation to escape my grandfather I wound up here and now I can never leave, Richard. I… I’d rather be with Grandfather than here…” 

“You _can_ leave, Damian. It was the fear gas-” 

“You still don’t get it! This isn’t the first time I’ve killed, Richard! And it won’t be the last! I belong here because everyone else is already dead. I can’t hurt anyone else here except for you so you must leave!” The buzzing was back, causing Damian to desperately shake his head an attempt to dispel it. It was disrupting his cotton world. Damian _liked_ his cotton world. 

For a long time, Richard remained silent and Damian feared that it was too late, that the man had succumbed to his injuries. It was only the strong heartbeat against his ear and gently pressure of arms wrapped around him that told Damian that Richard was still present and alive. 

“Damian…” Richard started slowly after far too long. “This isn’t the same as your other killings. Self-defense is not a crime, not in my books. You’ll only kill again - true, cold-blooded _murder_ \- if you want to. And I know you don’t want to.” 

“I-” 

“Stop talking. You’re not in your right state of mind. If you don’t want to go home, at least follow me to the medbay. I’ll fix you up, get an antidote in your system, and you’ll rest. And then, when you’re safe and healthy again, we’ll talk, okay? Please.” And there was that word again. _Fix_ . Richard _still_ wasn’t giving up. A small keening sound broke it’s way past Damian’s lips and he became all too aware of his blurred vision and wet cheeks. Richard was still here, still giving him an option. 

Perhaps he wasn’t in his right state of mind. Maybe the fear gas was still in his system, maybe the scene around him wasn’t that bad and it was the gas making him see things. He wouldn’t know unless he took Richard’s offer. But Damian was scared. He was scared of the buzzing, of the weight of reality pressing in. He didn’t want to leave behind his cotton world, didn’t want to face the harsh truth and consequences of what he’d done. 

“I’m scared.” The admission came out without consent, causing Damian to wince hard. Richard didn’t seem to notice, only holding Damian tighter despite his own discomfort. 

“I know, Baby Bat. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m gonna handle everything, I promise.” 

With more fear in his heart than Damian ever knew possible, Damian pulled away, training his eyes on the ground, and grasped Richard’s hand. Richard gave a comforting squeeze and began to pull him along. 

Together, they left.


End file.
